Bone of contention

More than three years after the mysterious disappearance of over 30 sabungeros — cockfight enthusiasts — across Luzon, the Philippine National Police, with the help of the Philippine Coast Guard, has now trained its gaze deep beneath the waters of Taal Lake.

There, investigators believe, the bones of the missing men may lie, dumped by perpetrators who presumed that time and tide would wash away their crimes. But as sonar scans and cadaver dogs hover around the lake’s perimeter in a desperate last-ditch effort, one has to wonder: if the bones are finally found, then what?

The case, once a national obsession, has now descended into the realm of myth, conspiracy and bureaucratic foot-dragging. Several names have floated as possible masterminds — from gambling tycoons to police scalawags — but no one has been held accountable. The government’s new approach, spurred by fresh intel that bodies may have been sunk in sacks tied to weights, is a macabre twist in a story already overloaded with suspicion and state inaction.

Yet we ask: Why now? The alleged mass abduction happened from late 2021 to early 2022. Any remains, if submerged all this time, would be skeletal at best. Forensic identification would require matching dental records, DNA from degraded tissue, or comparison with samples from relatives — none of which guarantees conclusive results after prolonged water exposure. In truth, even if bones are found, identifying them beyond a reasonable doubt will be a forensic uphill climb.

Even harder than the science, however, is the legal implication. Does the recovery of bones — assuming they are sabungero bones — establish guilt? Only partially. While it might confirm that the victims are indeed dead (a grim breakthrough in itself), it will not necessarily reveal who killed them, how they died, or where the orders came from. Unless the bones come with an engraved confession or a matching murder weapon, the puzzle remains mostly unsolved.

This leads us to the elephant in the investigation: the lack of political will and prosecutorial bite. Whispers of a powerful hand shielding the masterminds have hounded this case from day one. Several witnesses who pointed to well-connected figures have either retracted or disappeared. Some police officers have been linked to the crime but remain in the force or have been reshuffled like pieces on a chessboard. The justice system is, once again, caught dragging its heels behind a crime too politically sensitive to confront head-on.

Still, let’s not pretend the search is pointless. For the families of the victims, any trace — no matter how belated — provides closure. It is an affirmation that their loved ones were not just ghosts erased from existence. It also puts pressure on authorities to follow through, to at least appear committed to solving the case they all but buried.

But let us also not delude ourselves: this is justice in slow motion, justice by spectacle, justice possibly in name only. If Taal Lake yields its secrets, we may have bones. But we still won’t have truth, accountability, or peace of mind. That’s the real bone of contention here — not whether the bones will be found, but whether we have the spine to act on what they reveal.